


Black as the Pit

by maythecentrehold



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, I will not stop until I've put these two in every domestic situation I can think of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 02:55:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2605916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maythecentrehold/pseuds/maythecentrehold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'“Not that I don’t appreciate being pulled from bed by small perky humans at ungodly hours- really, I do, but what the hell are you doing with my cat, cutie?' Disgusting and apologetically domestic AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black as the Pit

Rain beats heavy against the windows of the old building, the steady beat lulling all but a scant few of its occupants into a deep, dreamless sleep. As soothing as the rain is, one woman has not succumbed to the hypnotic beat of the elements. Poor Laura Hollis is very much awake, for there is a noise coming from the other side of her door. She hadn’t heard it at first, resolutely buried as she was beneath the mountain her pillows formed on her bed. Her face crinkles into a frown against the sheets as the noise grows louder. There is a cat meowing pitifully outside her bedroom door. Laura most definitely does not own a cat.

With the groan of a woman leaving her bed much earlier than she would like to be, she heaves herself up, sleepily shuffling towards the source of the noise as it grows ever louder. Casting a critical look at the bottom of her door, she turns the handle, pulling the door a few inches towards her, half convinced that her mostly sugar diet (a residual habit from her college days) has finally worn holes in her brain. Much to her surprise, a bundle of black fur skitters over her feet and she shrieks as it makes a beeline for the head of her bed, backing itself against the headboard and curling into a small, black ball. Luminous yellow eyes stare at her from above a flicking tail.

She stands for a moment, shocked, and does her best to understand what had just happened. “Okay, first of all how did you get in here?” she murmurs more to herself than the cat, taking a few steps into the short hallway and making sure she hadn’t left a window open and tempted the universe. Much to her confusion, each and every opening in her house is closed and locked, just like they had been when she went to bed the night before. She slowly returns to her room, feet light on the worn floorboards. The furry little intruder has obviously made itself comfortable, and is sprawled languidly in the centre of her nest of sheets, the soft light from the ceiling pouring over short dark hair. As she watches, Laura notices a small patch of silvery hairs in the centre of his belly, and a smile pushes its way onto her lips. Unexpected as the furry interloper may be, she’s got to admit that it’s definitely one of the more welcome creatures that has ended up in her bed recently.

Perching a few feet away from the cat, wary of temper, teeth and talons, a cautious hand reaches out. Her knuckles stop just short of a round head, and a tiny black nose twitches as it sniffs. Deeming her company to be acceptable, the cat rises from its spot and trots across the sheets, small paws gently pressing into her legs as he takes a seat. The blonde woman suppresses a squeal, because  _oh dear god how are four little feet managing to press into every nerve in her legs holy shit that tickles._  Laura is bemused to notice a dusting of black hairs lay on the sheets in the creature’s wake.

Gritting her teeth against the feeling, because with her luck she would shift and claws would sink through her pants and into her skin, one hand scratches the soft fur of a cheek as the other twists the dainty blue collar, searching for tags. Fingers close around a small metal disc and she crows. Her victory is short lived, because upon inspection there only information it yields is a name;  _Bagheera_  is engraved into the disc in flowing script. Despite the frustrating lack of owner’s details, Laura has to laugh. “Black as the pit and terrible is Bagheera, huh?” she asks, cocking a brow at her lap’s occupant. The only response she gets is a pitiful meow, and she all but melts at the sound.

Eventually Laura tears herself away from her very distracting visitor and wanders into the kitchen, thankful that the weekend is here. She pours a glass of milk and it sits by her elbow and she combs through her social media feeds, chuckling occasionally at one story or another. She looks up after the fifteenth post from her old college housemate, shaking her head in exasperation. She loves Betty, she really does, but her social media presence borders on terrifying. She blinks hard, making a note to call and see how her old friend has been, and notices Bagheera has joined her, perched daintily on the table with his feet squared together next to her. She raises her gaze to the clock across the room, idly wondering if it is too early to go knocking on neighbour’s doors. The cat surreptitiously reaches forward with a paw, dipping it quickly into her tepid, forgotten glass of milk and bringing it to his face, tongue rasping away at the liquid. She watches in wonder, recording a clip and sending a photo to LaFontaine with a quick caption about a cheeky, unexpected houseguest. His patience wears thin and he attempts to dip his head into the glass, only to be thwarted by the narrowness of the rim, and a deep belly laugh works its way from Laura as she grabs a saucer to pour his treat into.

The little creature follows close to her heels as she goes about her morning routine, and she finds herself speaking to him as she dresses and eats breakfast. Her unlikely companion responds at such appropriate intervals that she eyes him suspiciously, but  _No, drop it Hollis, it’s just a cat, you’ve been watching too many weird YouTube videos late at night you are a journalist not a conspiracy theorist._  After some contemplation and a bout of playing with the cat and a stray shoelace, Laura comes to realize that her new friend must have come from this floor; the stairwell door is thick, heavy timber, and ignoring the fact that the sensor above the elevator barely picks up on Laura, he is a cat. That was stupid for her to have even considered, really. Silas habits die hard, apparently.

Pulling on a sweater against the cold of the old stone building, Laura scoops Bagheera up, his head against her arm, content to snooze as she walks down the creaking boards of the hall. She bypasses the first two doors, knowing full well that the first is home to a family with three small children who are allergic to  _dust_ , let alone cat hair. The second door is sealed with an eviction notice, though Laura had never known it to have an inhabitant. A smile curls at her lips when she remembers Perry’s reaction when she had mentioned it and an old echo of her voice muttering frantically about shift work and unorthodox hours and really Laura, you should know all about that!

She draws up to the third door, and having officially moved past the borders of the floor where she knows who people are, raises a tentative hand to the frame, rapping her knuckles against the wood. She swears under her breath because  _god that hurt her hands are colder than she thought_ , and rubs her dully aching fingers across the top of Bagheera’s neck. The little creature purrs in response, pressing his cold nose to her neck and she has to laugh because for a cat named after something with a description like “black as the pit and terrible,” he sure is pretty affectionate.

The sound of shuffling feet and quiet grumbling slips beneath the door and Laura looks up with a bright smile as it swings open, only to have her jaw drop a moment later. Standing before her in all of her sleep-mussed glory is quite realistically the most attractive woman she has ever seen. Legs longer than Laura’s entire body peek out from under dark shorts, the chill of the air apparently unnoticed, and Laura stumbles over her words, vowels and consonants tripping in a garbled mess up her tongue, and she winds her fingers into Bagheera’s fur to ground her. The movement of her hand attracts the woman’s attention, and her unimpressed gaze flicks from Laura’s flustered face to the bundle of fur in her arms. A heavy scowl settles onto her face, and Laura hears her speak for the first time. “Not that I don’t appreciate being pulled from bed by small perky humans at ungodly hours- really, I do, but what the hell are you doing with my cat, cutie?”

Laura snaps to attention at this, teeth clicking together abruptly as she closes her mouth, a frown drawing her brows together. “I’m sorry, but he somehow managed to get into my  _locked apartment_  at god knows what time this morning and woke me up meowing at the door! I’d have come knocking right then because I just wanted to find who his family was and bring him back, but I decided to wait a little because yeah it’s disgustingly early right now. I’m sorry for disrupting you I just didn’t know how long he’d been gone and I thought you would be worried about him sorry I’ll go.” The stream of words tumbles from Laura’s throat unchecked, and she a scarlet blush races up her chest and settles in her cheeks because  _fucking damn it Hollis this is the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen and you have just made a huge fool of yourself._ She holds out the cat towards his owner, elbows locked to maintain as much distance as possible because if she has to be any closer she’s going to burst into flame from pure, unadulterated embarrassment. Of course, she steps closer, gentle hands scooping him from her grasp. As much as Laura tries to keep from touching, hands brush against one another, and a palpable shock runs through her skin. If the hitched breath and curious smile from the other woman are any indication, she felt something too.

Bagheera, clueless and content as only a cat can be, burrows his nose into his mother’s hair, more of those small, pathetic meows drifting into the air and the tension drains from both women. The taller woman tears her gaze from the cat nestled into her hair, a gentle goofy smile still playing on her lips as she looks at Laura. She holds eye contact for several moments before Laura looks away, blush rising again to her cheeks. “You know, I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It means a lot. You bringing him home I mean, not exactly you waking me up. Not to say that I don’t mind you being here though! I-” She cuts herself off, a blush to rival Laura’s colouring her otherwise pale face, and she takes a deliberately deep breath, fingers winding into Bagheera’s fur in a move that seems more habitual than planned.

Composure regained, she continues. “What I meant to say was thank you very much for bringing him home. I’m Carmilla, by the way, and I’d really love to buy you a drink some time to say thank you, if you’d like that?” The uncertainty on her face is in stark contrast to the indignant confidence she had been displaying just a moment ago. Laura grins, mind running wild, and nods rapidly. “That sounds great! Yes, sure, I’d definitely like to go out with you some time!” The relief on Carmilla’s face is obvious, and Laura smiles fondly because for someone so terrifyingly attractive, she sure is a dork. Carmilla retreats into her apartment momentarily for a scrap of paper to write her number on and Bagheera returns for a final circle around Laura’s ankles before he disappears back inside. Hands touch again as she accepts the paper, spark just as strong as it had been before, and Laura dances her way back down the hallway, giggles bubbling up from her chest because  _she has a date with the most beautiful human being ever to take a breath_. A moment later the third door on the left clicks shut and a tall woman laughs as she rests her head against the frame.

**Author's Note:**

> I regret nothing.


End file.
